I’ve been posting blogs on Tuesdays and Fridays for at least the last couple of months and it seems weird to let a Tuesday or a Friday go by without posting something. This isn’t a big newsy post or a useful post. It’s barely even a Camp NaNoWriMo update. I’ve gotten so out of the way of just rambling about life and stuff here but I’d like to get back into the way of it. Also, please enjoy this picture of my kitten being floofy on a radiator.
My body has been a total bastard for the last couple of days. I’ve been fifty percent “It’s only pain. The worst thing it can do is hurt and I know I can handle that, no matter how bad it feels. I’m not going to explode or anything” and fifty percent “OK but when do I get to upload my consciousness into a robot body so I don’t have to deal with this anymore?” I went from being pissed off that I kept losing feeling in my legs cause it made me not able to do stuff, to welcoming it because not being able to feel anything at all was preferable to how fucking much it hurt when I could feel it.
I just wrote an entire paragraph about how bad it was but then I deleted it because it felt self-indulgent and whiny. I’m never sure how to balance that. I partly want to explain but then I don’t want to get into it. I get pissed off when people give ‘helpful’ suggestions because they don’t actually understand the situation but then I also find it so incredibly difficult to talk about so I don’t have the right to expect people to understand. So I’m going to link to this post again by way of explanation and ask that no-one offers any ‘help’, suggestions or platitudes.
Last night I pretty much lost my shit about it all because sometimes it just reaches that point, so I filled myself with coffee and painkillers and went to the forest. That sounds like a massive journey, but it isn’t. There’s a forest literally five minutes from my front door. I used to get anxious about people seeing me walking because when I’m able to walk I don’t do it exactly right because of not being able to properly feel and control the moving parts, and also because as soon as I take more than a few steps I’m hardcore exhausted and gasping for breath. Then I figured people seeing me in that state probably just think I’m on my way back from a really long run. Or they don’t notice at all.
The masochist in me gets a huge kick out of pushing through pain. While this is useful, given that I have a constant supply of fairly severe pain to push through, I also know it’s sort of stupid. I know it’s counterproductive. I know there’s a fine line between staying mobile and fucking my shit up by doing more than I’m realistically able to do, and I know I spend most of my time on the wrong side of that line because of the kind of person I am. But the truth is I don’t feel much better when I do all the resting and looking after myself, so if I’m going to feel like shit anyway, I’d rather feel like shit doing things that make me happy.
And it did make me happy. It was worth it. In the space of an hour, I saw numerous rabbits, a pheasant, two deer and a shitload of crows. The crows and rabbits are a normal sight but I’ve never seen a pheasant in that forest before and I’ve only encountered deer once. The ones I saw last night were so beautiful. I was moving pretty slowly and not making any noise apart from footsteps on grass so they noticed me but they weren’t startled, then they waited until I was only a few feet away before slowly wandering off, totally unbothered.
Today, sitting up isn’t really a thing so I’m propped up in bed on a bazillion pillows, guzzling coffee, listening to Nine Inch Nails and writing. And it’s OK. I’m OK. It’s important to acknowledge OK-ness.